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“Evil is rarely complicated. It’s just fucking bold.”
the Word was just as corrupt as the men who read it. Old Testament, New Testament, it was just words with a little w, written by zealots as PR for their new cult founded in the memory of a dead carpenter.
There was a chasm everyone had to traverse at one time or another called failure. Fear was the bridge that carried you over that crevasse.
Animus was a great motivator for vigilance.
like the colors of autumn personified.
That’s a distinction without a difference.
it’s just a whore’s hair above nothing,
“Treat people bad, bad comes back to you,”
That madness can spread. Become like religion for the lost.
“What if me trying to hold the world together is what keeps me from falling apart?”
that’s like trying to grab smoke.
Everyone feels it now. It slips unbidden into their hearts like a cold winter wind. It infects the days like an eclipse and the nights like a blanket made of dread.
